Homemade Gifts
by Shinatty
Summary: Its that time of the year, and Alfred forces the Allies to all participate in the now annual Secret Santa. And Arthur gets his long time crush, Wang Yao. Knowing that he's in a pinch, Arthur will have to observe Yao every second to find the perfect gift!


It's that time of the year again; Christmas. Presents, food, Christmas trees, mistletoe, what else could possibly make this even better? Actually, worse seemed to be the… more _accurate_ term. And Alfred (the twat) had insisted that all the Allies should join in on a—what did he call it again?—Oh right. "A fun and friendly Secret Santa project. Fun and friendly, my arse," Arthur grumbled to himself as he trudged to the hat that the beaming American was holding. And he took out a small piece of folded paper, and opened it once he was in a corner, by himself.

He groaned.

Out of all people—Yao. The Asian. The man who used to have the abnormally long hair. Now it was short—but still as smooth as ever, gorgeous bastard. Okay, fine, maybe Arthur had developed a teeny crush for the extremely good-looking Chinese—even when he realized Yao was male. Apparently turning homosexual was a pretty easy thing to do. When Yao was in the picture, of course.

And now he was the Asian's secret santa.

How convenient.

This would give him a way to the Chinese's heart—but then, why was he groaning like it was already the apocalypse?

Because. They didn't talk. They didn't even share a common glance, and they wouldn't even say hi. Arthur didn't know him well. And the same applied to the shorter male. So, finding a gift now would make his life just a little more complicated than before.

What if he got the wrong present? What if he got punched in the face just because he bought him a pair of chopsticks, and yelled at because Yao already had a bunch of those. Cheap bastard. Cheap, gorgeous, attractive bastard. What if he had bought him a pair of scissors? Would Yao cut even more hair off? To make himself look strange? Seemed like a huge shame—Arthur shook the feeling away.

He'd better start watching Yao so that he can meet the deadline of the Secret Santa.

And if he was caught staring at Yao, he would have an excuse now.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he mentally cursed anyone who was calling him, and letting his imagination run wild—oh. It wasn't a call, but a reminder instead. Fuck. He was late for a meeting.

Better start now, he figured. Then he ran.

Flinging the door open, he suddenly felt quite small at the abrupt turn of eyes, staring at the man who had been late—he could feel Ludwigs piercing gaze, and the usual gentle gaze of Yaos. Murmuring a soft apology (he was still a gentleman!), Kirkland sat down on his seat, and took out a pad of paper, and a pen. Oh no, he wasn't going to actually listen to Alfred or Ludwig, who were both arguing now—he was going to jot down notes about the Chinese male.

Time to observe.

Yao seemed calm today; like usual, and he was quiet. Gaze was focused on the two morons that were arguing. Fingers were laced together. Such slender fingers… Arthur shook the feeling away and scribbled down a few words. 'Nice fingers'.

Bloody fuck, he was so stupid.

Biting on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from groaning out loud in frustration, he squirmed, then looked up, to only find the Chinese male staring at him. Then their eyes met. Yao jumped slightly and gave him a nod, then turned his gaze to the paper in front of him. The only indication that Yao was blushing was the red ears he could see. Interesting.

The Brit stretched once the meeting was over, and took his notes, both his own, and the ones about Yao. He looked at said notes. And sighed.

- Nice fingers

- Cut his hair, still very cute workable

- Ears get red when embarrassed?

- Bites on lower lip when thinking

- Fuck my life

The list was pretty pathetic, he had to admit, and Arthur had crumpled it into an ugly ball of paper, and thrust it onto the floor.

Then Yao bent down, picked it up, and handed it back to the blond, who was now flushed, embarrassed, "… I don't think littering is a good thing, aru. Here," and the shorter male sent him a sweet smile before leaving.

One more thing to add to the list, the guessed. Him smiling is a crime to every gay male in this society.

And when he bent down to take that piece of paper—Jesus, it was like a stampede of buffalos went through his stomach. That… _arse_… Arthur shook his head profusely, maybe even causing a small headache to form.

This could lead to the end of him.

A week had passed, and Arthur was completely sure that he was fucked. Each day, he would stare at Yao for a long, long time, making the male blush and look away—and then he would go to department stores, trying to find some sort of gift that would work for Yao. So much harder than he thought it would be. And at first, he already thought it would be hard as hell. That said something.

So he started to read books. About gift giving. Yes, he was just _that_ hopeless. A certain chapter caught his attention, and his eyes widened. "Homemade gifts… The one that has most heart, and most time involved…" he repeated the chapter's name out loud, and tilted his head to the side.

Then his lips curled into a smug smile.

He knew what to give the Chinese.

It had taken him another week to finish his gift. The red wool, and the lessons he had gotten from his mother, were all very helpful to finish his gift. It was humongous. It was a pillow. For at least two heads, though—and Arthur gulped as a certain image flew into his head, and he let out a shaky breath. No. Shouldn't be thinking of that right now—just finish the last touches, and wrap it up, and then… well, give it to Alfred, who would hand it out in the Christmas party. So he did.

"Whoa, you actually bought something, dude? I thought you would've like… took a dog's shit, and then put it in a bag, then give it to me, to give it to the dude," Alfred said as he took the nicely wrapped present, and carefully put it down with the other presents, which were mostly smaller than his; he felt smug.

Arthur held his nose up high in the air, and said, "No. I'm too much of a gentleman to do such idiotic, American-teenage-boy-like things to do," he chuckled, teasing him as Alfred smacked him on the head, retorting, "I gave my person a burger coupon! Better than your present! Which I don't know what it is— Oh god! The party! It's starting soon, so you better get you and your small ass there!" he laughed, giving said buttocks a smack, then winked and skipped away.

Flipping him the bird, the Englishman huffed and trotted behind him, entering the meeting room, which was already decorated very nicely—ornaments hanging, mistletoes dangling, a very nice Christmas tree with candy canes—he felt very much in the spirit. And he had dressed so as well. The green and red vest he was wearing was no exception, of course. Sitting down in his chair, he stretched and crossed a leg over one leg, and waited for the present giving ceremony—Ceremony. God, Alfred was getting out of hand. Then he felt something brush against his thigh, and he looked to the left—"… Merry Christmas, Yao," he managed to keep himself from grinning way too much, and allowed himself to smile at the Chinese, who smiled back and said, "Merry Christmas to you too, Arthur."

They sat in amiable silence for a while, until Yao scooted closer and continued smiling, "… So are you doing anything for Christmas?"

"Not much, really. I'm planning to finish the book I've been reading—and maybe buy a few more packs of Earl Grey, I'm running out of those," he chuckled, replying with a smile. T-They were talking! And it was an amazing feeling—he felt so… so… well, 'tis the season to be jolly.

Yao played with his fingers and nodded, "That sounds nice. Tea and all, aru. What about the Secret Santa thing? Did you buy something for your secret santa?"

The blond flushed slightly and was about to say, "Yes, and it took me a bloody long time," but Alfred had gotten there quicker, and clapped his hands, yelling, "Dudes! It's time for the gift giving ceremony! Everyone come here and get the gifts! They have names on them already!"

Yao stood up, and gave the other's shoulder a cute pat, then smiled, "I'm going to get my gift, come on, and you should get yours too."

"S-Sure," he hated the stammer that his voice sent out, and the other's hand was still on his shoulder—"Dudeeee!" Alfred drawled out, taking the other's arm (the Brit was very reluctant to even leave the Chinese's presence), "Come on, get your present! I got it for you—Oops! Well, at least you know what I got for you," he laughed and forced the grumpy looking blond to the pile of presents under the large Christmas tree.

Waving a quick good bye to the Asian, who was chuckling at how cute their bickering was, Arthur snatched his present and shoved the coupon down his pocket. He didn't care about his gift right now. He just wanted to know how Yao would react—and he heard a squeak. A pretty loud squeak as well.

Glancing over to the side, he saw the Chinese male holding a large, red, heart shaped woollen pillow. And Yao's face was just as red as the pillow itself. He gave the pillow a hug, and gave it a sniff, eyes widening—Arthur was sure he could smell the jasmine incense. The blond had spent a lot of time on it, so he better be thankful. Yao snuggled closer to the pillow, and gave it another sniff, and then he blinked when he found the card. And his face turned even redder after reading it. And his eyes were glued onto the Brit, jaw slightly open, but nothing was coming out.

Well, the contents were embarrassing.

Yao put the pillow down, and trotted to the Brit, and grabbed his hand, stammering, "C-Come with me, aru," and Alfred grinned, whispering into Arthur's ear, "Get some!"

Following the other outside of the noisy room, the red faced Chinese pursed his lips and handed the letter to the Brit, "W-What is this about? I don't understand."

He remembered what he had written, so he didn't open it, "… Should I tell you what it means?"

"That's the reason why you're here, Arthur. Y-You sent it. You wrote your name—T-There."

"What don't you understand?"

Finally, Yao huffed and whined, allowing his eyes to finally stare into the Brit's own green ones, "W-Why did you say that the pillow was a property of Arthur Kirklands? I-I don't get it! Should I give it back or something—O-Or what?"

"… It's embarrassing! I don't want to say it!" now Arthur was red, and he huffed as well, crossing his arms.

"… J-Just say it, Arthur!"

"It's a bloody heart! It means its mine, and now you have it, you sodding idiot!" he yelled out, frowning in embarrassment—then his eyes widened. I said it, he thought, I finally cracked, "… W-Well, so it's time for me to goooo…" he drawled out, a forced smile on his face, as he quickly ran to the bathroom.

Before he could even open the door to the bathroom, he was forced around by a certain Asian, and he gasped at the sheer might—well, apparently Yao was stronger than he assumed. "W-Whot," he grumbled, not wanting to look at the other. He didn't want to be rejected.

"… I-I liked the gift a lot, thank you," Yao said in a soft voice, glancing up at the blond, "… A-And I just wanted to say that… I accept it."

Arthur blinked, "… W-Wait, the pillow?"

"N-No… the thing right here," Yao tapped the Brit's chest, smiling brightly, face still flushed.

Eyes widening, the blond gulped and looked down at the other's finger that was now connected to his chest, "… Really?"

Making a small noise of approval, Yao nodded and smiled sweetly, lips curled up as he then pulled away, "… I'm still waiting," the Chinese male pursed his lips together, totally trying not to grin as he continued, "For that embarrassing confession that you said you would give me on the letter."

His eyes widened. And then he remembered. "T-That was just a j-joke—" he was interrupted by a smack to the head from the shorter other, who huffed, "Just say it!"

"F-Fine! I like you! S-So—lets go out!" he snapped, pouting, face red as he crossed his arms, and looked up to the ceiling, which was a bad idea as well—hah. How cliché. Mistletoe? Really?

"I don't see why I shouldn't," Yao whispered softly as he glanced up as well, and held onto both of Arthur's hands, lacing their fingers together as he tiptoed, and pressed his lips onto the Brit's own for only a few seconds.

But it was _so_ worth it.

Feeling the other pull away, Arthur's eyes opened (when had he closed them?), and he blinked, "… Wow," he breathed out softly, leaning in for one more kiss as Yao let out a laugh, but only let go to wrap his arms around the other's neck, kissing back happily, and Kirkland's hands were on the Chinese's hips, also very delighted at the turn of events—until he heard Francis groan in defeat, "Oh, _merde_, I owe Alfred fifty bucks… You better be 'appy now, Kirkland."

The Englishman laughed, a genuine laugh, and gave Yao a squeeze, "Whatever, frog, I'm a little busy right now— And how about we go somewhere else? I'll buy us dinner," Arthur said softly, just so that the Asian could hear, and said Asian replied, "I'd love that."

"Let's get out of here then," he smiled and took the other's hand, entwining their fingers together, and led him out, so that they could be greeted by the cold gust of wind, and the wonderful flakes of snow that rested on their scarves and clothing.

Alfred earned those fifty dollars.

And Secret Santas… weren't so bad either.

END.

Authors Note: So. I got a request from someone, for someone's birthday, so Lily, hope this was as fluffy and romantic as you wanted (hopefully, I got it actually fluffy and romantic LOL). And hope it was a wonderful belated birthday gift! Happy belated birthday! From Shinatty XD 3


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